


send a telegram

by Zekkass



Series: Cliffjumper Collared [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger Management, Collars, Exhibitionism, Love Bites, M/M, Pain, Painplay, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: Shockwave, when told to offer something useful, offered Cliffjumper a location.





	send a telegram

**Author's Note:**

> Written for arco!
> 
> Please read the tags, this one is both plotty and violent and as messed up as usual. You definitely need to read the first two in this series to enjoy this, too, so go do that!

To guarantee that he'll have back-up, Cliffjumper Prime goes alone to the underground levels. 4-B, Sector Epsilon. Shockwave had specified the rectangular discoloration, but nothing else.

As a shallow level, 4-B is populated and maintained. It's half residential level, half archival storage, with large structures making way for slim cylinders housing studious workers. This isn't an unreasonable place for a mech like Cliffjumper to go - and it wouldn't have been for Longarm, either. He could be visiting a friend, partaking from a popular cafe or other outlet, or more relevantly he could be going directly to these sections of the Archives for access to older files. Not ancient files - those are lower down - but pre-war at least.

Sector Epsilon is a border area, containing several quick fueling stations, tube entrance for quick drives to the surface, the outer rings of the archives. The edges of the underground wall, with its maintenance accesses. Cliffjumper starts with a walk along the wall, suspecting - sighing when he doesn't find any discolorations. Of course. It's too well maintained here for something that obvious to be missed.

Into the archives, then - and out. Nothing. He starts picking fuel stops, only purchasing small cubes, subspacing most of them after a few sips. Not wise, to keep that much in his subspace, but he'll clear it out soon.

The fourth stop has an attached washracks, and there it is. Of course. So easy to visit the archives, stop in here afterwards, clean up and vanish for a little while. Cliffjumper crouches by the discoloration, prodding at it - it buzzes at his touch, a forcefield reluctantly giving up its secrets.

Right. If he's going to have back-up, it won't show up in time to rescue him. Just to find out whatever ate him, and hopefully to stop it before it eats the rest of Cybertron.

Cliffjumper braces himself and crawls into the forcefield. It's sized so it that it must have been inconvenient for Longarm to crawl through it, making it almost roomy for Cliffjumper. It's horizontal for a short distance, then drops down - here Cliffjumper makes a disgusted noise. Of course. No ladder or handholds, because _Longarm_ wouldn't have needed them.

Nothing for it. He angles himself, then jumps down.

The fall isn't long, something he takes without damaging any joints, and now he's here: right in a surprisingly large chamber with no lighting. He activates his lights, angling himself from side to side as he surveys - tubes. Rows and rows of tall vertical tubes with shapes in them.

"Oh, slag," he utters, the sound whispering through the room.

This isn't a gift, nothing Shockwave gives him is a _gift -_

Movement. A quick stutter-step from somewhere down the rows of tubes. Cliffjumper turns off his lights, activating thermals instead, because that was stupid, stupid, _stupid_ he's set off some kind of sensor, or woken something up, and now Shockwave's trap has definitely activated.

Yes: there are the red lights on the regular optical feed, sickeningly familiar. There are the masses of heat, in the shape of frames, a frame for every tube.

There's the hiss-pop-sizzle of machinery moving, fluid moving, and Cliffjumper steps back, then back again. These are _monsters_ and Longarm - Shockwave - has had them down here for decades if not longer, waiting for this.

Out come the guns, because he can't climb the shaft he came down.

A flare of red, and something slams into him, roaring - 

//

He's dragged from the rubble, a willing participant in his own freedom. He punches the first mech to ask him if he's okay, punches the second that tries to stop him and transforms in a flurry of motion, accelerating away, through the massive hole those monsters left in the side of Iacon's underground. It links up with the tubes - of course, frag him, frag Shockwave - and he has to dodge wreckage and frames and he only speeds up, swearing, swearing, _angry._

He's always been a fool for Shockwave, always walked right into his traps. He let power know he was onto it, and didn't think about what he would do after that. No plans. Not like Shockwave.

Longarm was right, he thinks better when he's angry: he can see the whole plan now, how he walked right into such an obvious, stupid trap.

In the event that Shockwave needed to cause chaos in Iacon, perhaps on all of Cybertron, he snuck an entire army of monsters into just off the Underground, somehow hollowing out a new chamber and disguising it. The details of what the monsters are or how he pulled this off are irrelevant now. He strung the trap with - probably lots of options. Doesn't matter. The one he picked was Cliffjumper.

Easy to see now: pick out Cliffjumper. Make him a secretary. Seduce him, damn him. Give him a gift so he can't ever forget about him. Make sure he visits him in prison, tell him where to go.

The collar probably has some kind of signaling device in it, or all it took was an intruder finding that chamber. Cliffjumper won't know unless Shockwave tells him. It's probably both.

The most damning fact is that he's alive. He was only dented and stranded under rubble. His collar is probably still gleaming where it's snug around his protoform. As soon as someone smart enough to piece that together realizes that, he's dead. Worse. In the Stockades with Shockwave.

So he drives and doesn't call ahead because he's already too late.

//

A starship overhead. No storm tonight, nothing dramatic to highlight the disaster below: just a stark purple sky, the color the Decepticons chose for their sigils. Symbolizing their bid for freedom, but that's always been a load of slag.

Shockwave's waiting for him, actually fragging waving at him on the front steps of what used to be the Stockades. Next to him is a monster, with fangs and wings and it's a lot bigger than any of those tubes Cliffjumper saw.

Cliffjumper pulls to a stop and transform and doesn't hesitate to draw a gun and shoot Shockwave, provoking a smooth motion from the monster - he's pinned under one clawed pede and Shockwave's come to peer at him. Did he miss? - No, the bastard dodged. So damn quick in his movements.

"Thank you," Shockwave says. "We should talk later...but I don't believe you want to wait."

"Fragger," Cliffjumper spits.

"Of course!" Shockwave says, and he sounds so happy Cliffjumper can hear the echo of Longarm Prime. He can see the dopey smile.

"Don't you dare," Cliffjumper snarls as the monster frees him. He doesn't get up as Shockwave kneels over him, staring up into that optic. "Say anything and I will kill you."

A laugh, and Shockwave's claws are on his armor, inspecting his dents, making his sensors send little alarums through him. The starship above cuts a dark silhouette in the sky; it's moving, it's leaving. Without Shockwave?

"Oh, don't start so," Shockwave says. "You'll interrupt. And that ship is leaving. We are not. I'm not done with Cybertron."

We, Shockwave says, meaning the monsters. Cliffjumper growls, because what can he say? What else can he tell _this_ monster that will do any good? His collar is still snug around his neck and worst of all his charge is up just from being _near_ him.

"You destroyed my entire life," Cliffjumper says, because telling power what it has done to you makes it happy. Power will laugh at your impotent rage and twist the screws just that much deeper.

Shockwave, for example: he laughs and taps his claws on his collar before driving them into his shoulder, digging relentlessly as Cliffjumper screams in sudden pain and shock - 

He holds up a little device. Tracker. Eavesdropper. Buried deep within, and Cliffjumper doesn't even know what to do with that information, except feel relief that the pain is a dull throb.

"A gift," Longarm's voice from Shockwave's helm, "To every mech who ascends to the head of intelligence. A practice started during or after the war, I assume. You would not believe how difficult it was to function with this present recording my every action. Not a thorough device, but enough to make the councilors content. Enough, now, to secure your freedom."

_When did that even get implanted,_ Cliffjumper wants to ask, but doesn't, because he understands how necessary that kind of paranoia was, and how it wasn't enough.

Shockwave tosses it aside and bends down, down - his mandibles open. Cliffjumper watches as those freaky glossae extend and gently lick up his leaking energon, cleaning up the wound. Shockwave's engine is a low thrum above him, and he's going to _do_ something if Shockwave doesn't stop.

"You still haven't gotten that mod," Shockwave says, and for a moment Cliffjumper has no idea what he means.

Then Shockwave rears up and Cliffjumper's optics widen as Shockwave's spike extends. He's seen it before, but not like this, with Shockwave above him and it is a lot longer than Longarm's, that's what he meant by the same number of nodes - 

He gulps.

"We will make do once again," Shockwave says. "You will use your mouth."

Cliffjumper works his own glossae, shoulder throbbing, repair systems sending him urgent signals. His mouth feels empty, like he's never used it before. Like there aren't cubes of fuel sitting in his subspace, making this dangerous in stupid ways. Why's he thinking about that now? Because Shockwave's spike it so large and long, proportional to his monster frame, because he's absolutely going to try to fit as much of his mouth around that as he can, because he is going to bite the tip off, same as Shockwave took the tip of his horn.

Shockwave should be afraid but he never is. Cliffjumper pushes himself up, seeing streaks on his own frame where the monsters ripped the paint up. He makes himself look at that spike.

He makes himself take it in his hands, stopping the urge to twist and squeeze and tear. Stop that pleasure so he can have the greater satisfaction later. He's never understood Shockwave as much as he has now.

"I hate you," Cliffjumper says, staring at the biolights dotting Shockwave's spike. "You'll enjoy this." A threat, and Shockwave touches his horns with his claws.

"I will. Do whatever you want to do."

Explicit permission. Cliffjumper looks up at him, keenly aware of the towering monster watching them. There might be - there are autobots out there watching them. Everything gets watched in Iacon. What would a good little Autobot do, in this position?

Frag it.

He doesn't even try to fit his mouth around it, instead turning his head and biting down just under the head, where it's most sensitive.

Shockwave's vocalizer breaks, emitting a scream and a moan and static and yeah, he's a messed up fragger and Cliffjumper grinds his dentae in, then releases Shockwave, picks a spot lower down on his shaft and bites him again.

The sound doesn't stop, and Shockwave spasms and Cliffjumper tastes energon mingled with transfluid - wait, is the fragging bastard overloading _already?_

He is. Cliffjumper releases him, sitting back, staring as Shockwave loses control for nearly half a minute.

Shockwave reaches down when he has control, grabbing Cliffjumper's helm, lifting him up until he dangles from his hold.

"You," Shockwave says, and Cliffjumper resists the urge to laugh. He's not afraid, he can't be afraid now.

"My turn," he says, surprised by how satisfied he sounds.

"Yes," Shockwave agrees, after a pause. "Open your panels."

It's too easy. This is going to hurt a lot.

Shockwave's optic is gleaming brighter than Cliffjumper's ever seen it. He opens his valve panel, exposing himself willingly for anyone who's watching.

Shockwave slams one claw right up into his valve, and it hurts like nothing else, so sharp he doesn't register pain at first, only damage.

He's not going to give Shockwave the reward of his screams, he's not, he snaps at Shockwave and growls and spits out, "that's not going to make me overload, you pain-obsessed freak."

"It will," Shockwave says, vocalizer hissing, and he twists his claws, doing more damage - and there's a distinctive crackle - oh. Oh Primus. Shockwave's generating charge, making it crackle over his forearm and channeling it down to his claws - and now Cliffjumper has to squirm, even through the pain because that much power into those nodes makes his frame sing and he cries out in unrestrained pleasure.

Shockwave plays with him, sinking his claws deeper or pulling them out, playing the power right into his most sensitive nodes and staring right at him as he loses control, overloading in bursts as his frame doesn't want to stop, not when the power keeps zinging into him.

One overload, then a forced one, then another, and Cliffjumper's optics fuzz and he kicks, weakly - and Shockwave doesn't let go. This is revenge, and he's got Cliffjumper helpless before him, even when Cliffjumper shakily pulls out another gun and aims it - and overloads a final time, frame abruptly shutting him down.

Intentionally timed? Cliffjumper has tried to hurt him so many times before, but never with actual intent.

Shockwave cradles him in his arms, turning to his predacon. It's time to go.


End file.
